I am Spider-Man

Setting my base in a Smurf-blue house, I hide,
Weaving a web of nerves on every side.

Next door, the groans of neighbors shake the floor,
My web's vibration drives away my prey once more.

My own dawn groans rise up into the air,
I am not alone; someone steals my fare.

"Floor-to-Floor Noise"

Upstairs, a washing machine spins late at night,
A slamming door greets the morning light.

Asians need no alarm clocks to wake,
Every sound breaks the peace we try to take.

I long to drive out and escape the street,
Yet trapped again, where parking cars compete.
I make a call,
No one answers at all.

For Asians, a holy life belongs alone
To those who dwell in luxury's high-rise zone.

Because a lush forest garden waits for them to steer,
With open roads and skies so crystal clear.

Living in this Smurf-house lane, confined,
A tiny car blocks the path ahead, unkind.
No one answers my desperate plea,
Panic sets in, anxiety running free.
I am running late.

My boss's warning strikes with iron weight:
"One more delay, and you seal your fate!"

In Asian neighborhoods, a parking feud can bloom,
A fleeting second of sudden death and doom.

While the rich in luxury apartments are so slow and grand,
Where sweet floral fragrances drift across the land.

"The poor must tread upon the blades of grass beneath their feet,
While the wealthy hear the grass sing songs of joy, complete."
Copyright © | Year Posted 2026

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace